A Gentleman's Wager
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Heyes and Curry bet it all on their hope to win their amnesty.


"Damn it, Heyes, hold still!" snapped an anxious Kid Curry. He was trying to hold a compress on the deep wound in his partner's gun arm without much success. Heyes was jumping about trying to twist away from him.

"Ow! Geez, stop it. I can do that myself!" snarled Heyes.

The Kid threw down the wadded up bandana he had held and stood up. "Fine, do it." He stomped away and stopped at the edge of the ridge they had just galloped up. From there he could see the posse that had been pursuing them since late last night.

The dark-haired man grabbed the compress from the dirt, shook it out, re-folded it, and pressed it down onto the torn sleeve of his shirt. "Do you see them?"

"Yeah, I see them. They're crossing the river. We gotta go." The Kid came back to help his partner up. Heyes rose to his feet and swayed dramatically, with Curry having to make a quick catch to keep him on his feet. "I am so sick of this!" said the blond outlaw.

Heyes smiled slightly despite his pain. "Last time I looked, I was the one that got shot." His partner was scowling as he nearly dragged him to his horse and shoved him in the saddle. "Hey, take it easy, will you? What's gotten into you?"

"I've had it. I'm quittin'."

White-faced, and clutching the saddlehorn with his good hand, Heyes watched his friend walk around him and climb onto his gelding. "Quitting the partnership?" he asked weakly.

The Kid turned to him, surprised at the suggestion. "No, of course not! It's the amnesty I'm done with. I ain't doing this anymore. I swear that governor's never gonna deliver on his promise and I ain't waiting any longer. Hell, it's been over three years now and it's only a matter of time before you, or me, or both of us get killed, and then what good is an amnesty going to do us?"

Heyes stared down the hillside and then up at his friend. "You're right. He ain't delivering so we're just going to have to make him."

OOOOOOOOOO

"The governor said that he'll agree to see you, but it has to be a clandestine meeting." Lom Trevors held out the telegram he had just received from the governor's office in reply to his request. "Says he can't afford to have anyone finding out. I don't know, boys, it don't sound too promising to me."

The Kid crossed his arms and glared at Lom's outstretched hand. Heyes snatched the paper using his left hand; his right arm was in a sling, and began reading, "He says he's going golfing on Thursday. We're to meet him on the back nine holes around 8 a.m."

"Golfing?" said Curry.

"Yeah, you know that game that Mark Twain said was a good walk spoiled," said Heyes.

"I know what golfing is, Heyes, but there ain't no golf course around here."

Lom spoke up, "Well, yes, Kid, there is. Seems the governor got hooked on the game during a visit back east last summer. He had a small course put in outside of Cheyenne. He owns it and mostly it's just him who plays it, but it's there. I've seen it myself."

"Huh," said two ex-outlaws.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Walk with me, gentlemen," said the governor in lieu of a greeting. "I'm having a good day and I don't want to lose this game."

"Lose? Who else is playing you?" asked a confused Heyes, looking around with a little bit of alarm. The Kid and Lom stood behind him and watched the governor's caddy pick up his boss's heavy bag of clubs and sling it over his shoulder. He set off toward the next hole as the governor gestured to the three men to follow.

"I play against myself, sir. I haven't had any luck getting my constituents interested in the game, but I'm not worried, it will catch on. As a matter of fact, I've bet a lot of my own money that it will." Seeing the three men watching his caddy walk away, he added, "Don't mind Carlos, the man doesn't have a word of English. It's why I hired him," said the politician, "Of course, he is dead shot with that Colt he's wearing."

"Must be worried about coming across some bad-tempered prairie dogs," whispered Heyes to his partner. The Kid was wearing the same frown he'd started the day with.

OOOOOOOOOO

"So, sir, we feel that after three years of staying on the right side of the law and out of trouble, it's time for you to consider making good on your promise," finished Heyes. He had laid out his best arguments and was satisfied that he had covered all the points he'd chosen to make. He waited for a response and felt his temper rising as time stretched on.

"Fore!" yelled the governor as he took a shot. "Damn! I sliced it." He looked up to see Kid Curry watching him. "Mr. Curry, would you like to try a hole?"

"Sure. Don't look too hard," said the Kid, "I'll give it a shot."

The governor smiled, "Well, then, perhaps you'd like to make a little wager? I'll bet you fifty dollars that I can make that hole in under six shots."

The Kid narrowed his eyes and looked down the cut grass to the flag set in the ground a distance away. Heyes stepped up and cleared his throat, "Ahem, governor, you are obviously a skilled player and my partner has never held a club in his life. You know, sir, we're getting a little off topic here. We were discussing our amnesty."

The governor narrowed his eyes at Heyes, "Indeed we were, Mr. Heyes." Heyes felt a chill go down his spine at the look the politician gave him before turning to the Kid. "Tell you what, Mr. Curry, if you can sink this ball into that hole down there in six shots or less, I'll give you and your partner your amnesty, no questions asked."

"That ain't fair!" Lom was furious at the governor and couldn't keep his anger out of his words. All the hard work his friends had done and this man was betting it all on a game.

"Now, hold on, Lom," said Heyes, reasonably. He turned to the governor and smiled, a small, tight evil smile. "We'll take that bet."

"We will?" The Kid looked at his partner, astonished that he would take the risk with their freedom until he saw the gleam in Heyes's eye.

"Yes, we will."

OOOOOOOO

It had taken the Kid four of his six shots to get near the closely clipped green around the little hole with a flag in it. The governor had been gracious, offering Curry some pointers, and instructing him on which clubs to use. After the first couple of shots, the Kid had started to get the hang of it and the politician asked skeptically, "You are a natural, Mr. Curry. Are you sure you haven't played before?"

"Nope, but it ain't that different than sightin' down a pistol." The Kid swung his club and the small ball rolled into the rough on the other side of the green. He smiled at his partner, who grinned widely and nodded.

"Bad luck, sir; that will be a most difficult shot. Might I suggest a six iron?" laughed the governor, holding out one of his clubs.

The Kid ignored him and glanced at his partner giving him a tiny nod. Heyes smiled back at him, completely relaxed, and walked over to the flag standing up inside a tiny cup. He used his good hand to pick up the flag and walked off to the side of the green, leaving the Kid to line up his shot. The Kid took a moment to judge his shot, then he set the club he was holding down and backed away, drawing his Colt and shooting at the small white ball. It skipped high into the air and landed a couple of feet from the flag, bouncing the remaining distance and rolling into the cup. With a flourish, the Kid returned his gun to its holster.

"You cheated!" cried the apoplectic governor.

"No, sir, he did not. You said six shots and that was his sixth shot," said Heyes.

"He used a gun!"

"You never said he couldn't, you only said six shots or less."

"That's true, governor," added Lom. "You owe them their amnesty. You ain't welching on another deal, are you?"

Carlos, who was standing behind his boss, started shaking his head. "The senor always makes good on his debts, don't you, Jefe?"

The governor looked at him in shock and then growled and threw down his club. "Fine. You can have your damn amnesty!


End file.
